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What I did on my summer vacation
Put behind cuts because no one wants to read it but me since it is 4 and a half months late.
We flew into the San Jose Airport. I have always liked that airport since it is the only one that I have flown to by myself, (once, long ago when I worked someplace that trained its employees rather than throwing them away when they needed a fresh skill set.) Security construction has largely destroyed the open 50s style architecture, and not much of the original small airport charm is left, but my favorite thing in the world remains. At the San José airport, Alaska Airlines off-loads their planes via stairs down to the tarmac rather than through gangways. I have wanted to do that since they first aired the episode of the Brady Bunch where they go to Hawaii. We were not greeted by hula girls with leis (was that ever the norm when airplanes arrived in Hawaii, or was that just for the show?), which was probably just as well, but walking down the stairs out of a plane always makes me feel like a movie star. I should probably make Ron go ahead of me next time so I can wave jauntily at him as I emerge from the plane.
The theme of this particular flight had quickly become “never travel on a Saturday.” We ran a little behind on our way to the airport, but still felt like we were in plenty of time to get food at Starbucks after checking in. We were wrong. We took up the entire time from the time we arrived till the time we got to our gate just in time to board just standing in lines. Fortunately, we had packed Cliff bars, and they still serve tea on the plane, but we were really ready for some food when we arrived at our friend Clint’s house in Oakland.
We got lost on the way there (an exit that mapquest said was there was there, but you couldn’t get to it going the direction were going.) We ended up driving through the center of Berkley to go to Oakland. I was really surprised. I had expected Berkley to be a really cool neighborhood full of color, public art, and interesting shops, but it turned out to be dirty and rundown with garbage blowing everywhere. Oakland was upscale by comparison.
When we got to Clint’s he whisked us off to “Lois the Pie Queen” for breakfast, (Mmmm…Cheesy grits) then we were off to San Francisco for haircuts. One of my personal goals for the trip was to get my hair cut at Joe’s Barber shop. That is where![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
otterpop58 gets his hair cut, so obviously, that is where all the cool kids go to get their hair cut in San Francisco. Unfortunately, I did not realize it was Pink Saturday so Clint was pretty dubious about our chances. He could tell I was pretty disappointed, so he took charge and called to make Ron and I both appointments. We were in luck; one of the guys had two appointments open. We got our hair cut by Danny, who was way the cutest guy there (he was also apparently the only barber working there that day who had never been a porn star or escort…I suspect there is a correlation there…) Now the only problem is how we are going to afford $300 a month each to fly down and get our hair cut there every month. We both agreed they were the best haircuts we have ever had.
Ron has already talked about what happened to the car that day, so that was our big adventure for most of the afternoon. I had not realized how long it had been since we had been to San Francisco and figured we would have dinner at The Patio, but apparently it has been closed for a really long time and we were running really late anyway. Western Star was having a Pride Dance that night, so we dropped Clint off in the Noe Valley for a Mark Weigle show, and we scooted up to the top of one of the hills (the twin peaks neighborhood?) for the Pride Square Dance. Before the dance we ate at a little hamburger place across from the church (a Lutheran church who “worships the goddess in all of us”…I could be wrong, but I believe that can be filed in the “only in San Francisco” category). I had a Turkey burger covered in Mushrooms. Mmmmm.
Kris Jensen is a great caller and chooses super fun music to call to. It was fun checking in with people we know from the Bay Area clubs. Sunday we were up early to catch the train in from Oakland for dim sum and then Pride.
Chinatown is one of my favorite spots in San Francisco. I am sure it is different on the East coast, but on the West coast, there are not that many dense urban places that are that old so it is very cool. We had dim sum with friends of Clint’s (both of whom were way over six foot tall which was comically clear when they stood next to the waitresses.) We were the only anglos in the place which people always assure me is the way to tell a really good restaurant in an ethnic neighborhood, and it must be true since the food was really good. I can’t remember the names of anything we ate, but it was all good. There was one sweet, fluffy white bun thing full of something steaming hot and violently orange that was super yummy.
After breakfast we said goodbye to Clint’s friends and toodled down the street to catch the Pride Parade. A quick stop at the drug store for sunscreen and water and we were all set. I had been to the Pride parade in SF once about 12 years ago, but Ron had never been so he was pretty excited. Pride in San Francisco, what could be cooler than that? It turned out the list was quite long. Content wise, it was not that much different than in Seattle, and since Seattle is so much smaller, there is a lot more interaction between people in the parade who know each other and people in the crowd who know each other so there is a lot more energy. We were also surprised that there was very little eye candy. The leather guys were all –really- used looking, the few guys who had their shirts off were doing the shaved and oiled plastic action figure look (I’m not counting the ones who proved the maxum “those who shouldn’t are the first one to take their clothes off”) and the couple of cute cowboys went by all to quickly. The square dancers were fun though and were a great advertisement for square dancing. I wish we could put together that big a contingent.
I was also surprised that there were very few people under the age of 35 in the parade at all when not figuring in the marching band from the alternative high school and the skinny, shaved go-go boys. We quickly discovered that was because they had all skipped the parade to go directly to the festival to start drinking.
Twelve years ago when I was at Pride, the festival was the best part. There were tons of booths with lots of cool stuff to look at. I love wandering around festivals looking at stuff, so I was looking forward to it. This year it was not fun at all. I don’t know if a regulation changed, or the type of permit, or if the event has just grown really huge, or some combination, but it seemed like every other organization who had a booth at the festival was selling alcohol as a fund raiser. Now, the issue of selling alcohol at an event for and by a community that has huge substance abuse problems aside, it made the atmosphere that of a huge bar full of drunk people rather than any sort of festival; a huge bar –really- full of –really- drunk people. You had to shuffle through a crowd that practically filled the Civic Center, all of whom were completely unaware there were other people there. Another difference was that the huge majority of attendees were straight twenty somethings. Apparently Pride is turning into just another drinking holiday like St. Patrick’s day and Mardi Gras. By the time we found the Square Dance booth a couple hours later, I was so full of Pride that if one more drunk person had run into me without even noticing, I was going to punch someone. Ron and Clint were equally full of the spirit of the day, so after saying Hi to people at the booth, we headed back to the Castro.
Starbears was packed and we really wanted to sit down, so we went to a little French coffee house right on Castro (which is already not there anymore…yeesh) and hung out for a couple hours drinking iced tea and chatting. Afterwards, we tried to go to Clint’s favorite Thai restaurant, but it had been turned into a disco for the day so we wandered back up the street to another Thai place and had some of the worst Thai food I have ever had. The green curry was bland, the Phad Thai was pink and boring, and the Tofu Tod was seriously uninspired. I wondered if they had stolen the “Best of San Francisco” sticker in the window. I hope they did. And to top it off, they had TV’s playing a slasher flick positioned all over the restaurant. Yum.
Afterwards, we wandered down Castro to see the sights and quickly discovered there weren’t going to be any. All the bars were full of drunk, straight twenty-somethings, and that was all that was on the street as well. When we had to walk in the street to get past a group of aggressively on- something straight kids smoking pot while they waited outside a club, it was time to call it a night.
We made our goodbyes to Clint the next morning after a last visit to the Pie Queen, and we were off to Caller school. After learning a lesson about rental cars (don’t go with the cheaper brand in favor of the one you can drop off at the hotel since you will eat the savings in taxi fare if there is no shuttle) we were finally checked in and ready for the week of square dancing.
Most important though, was getting ready forbjarvis and Kent to arrive. Getting to see them again was the best part of convention. I would happily meet them for breakfast –every- morning if it was possible. It is a little weird how happy that made me.
I’ve talked about caller school elsewhere, suffice to say it was fun and exciting while making my brain hurt at the same time. There were several people in my beginners class that I think will actually get a lot of calling time in someday, butfuzzygruf is the one to watch. I suspect he will be one of the traveling callers someday if he wants to be.
Between caller school and convention, we (rlegters, bjarvis, Kent, and I, with Eric from Boston in tow) rented a car and ran around site seeing. The Winchester Mystery Mansion was amazing. They spend a lot of time playing up the more eccentric parts of Sarah Winchester’s life, but a lot of the “mysteries” can be explained by her health (for example, the stair way to nowhere wasn’t built that way, it was closed off when they built a new one with tiny treads that she could actually walk up with arthritis) or by her being an amateur architect. She was an amazingly successful business women/architect/artist in a time when women didn’t do those things, and the house is full of every high-tech gadget you can imagine from the turn of the century. I think people who don’t know or aren’t aware of the influence of spiritualists in Victorian society focus on some of her more eccentric behavior, but she was following the time honored reclusive widow track available to women of the time and her belief in that particular brand of spirituality wasn’t quantitatively much different than Shirley McLean’s. Grieving rich people make choices the rest of us can’t afford to no matter the century. I found the marketing of her eccentricity way creepier.
Later on that afternoon, we discovered that Brian purrs when you give him a hot fudge sundae.
That evening we went to dinner in Mountain View, which was the first place I have been in the Bay area that I could imagine living. All in all it was a really fun day. Next day, the convention began.
The convention was really well done. The committee had a hard act to follow after the amazing convention held at the Arizona Biltmore, but they did a good job. I loved all the found-object robots and the Drive-in marquee sign outside the banquet tent.
I did get frustrated with what I consider the IAGSDC’s dirty little secret. I used to wonder why so many people come to a square dance convention, and then spend the whole time laying by the pool and socializing. Now I don’t. The floor level at convention is so low it is not fun to dance at all. If it weren’t for caller school and getting to see Brian and Kent and assorted other people from around the country, I think we would spend our money going to fly-ins instead.
I like teaching people and I enjoy angeling. New dancers that are just a little tentative or still get turned around on some calls, are not a problem and are often a lot of fun. Breaking down is just part of square dancing, it’s not a big deal. However, I draw the line at breaking down every sequence, and I especially draw the line at breaking down every sequence on Mainstream calls during Plus tips.
I realize that I am only an okay dancer. I depend too much on how executing the calls feels and on the patterns that are created by the other dancers and I have trouble calling up and executing the definitions in real time. When people start wandering around on a multi-part call, I’m lost; I can’t just keep doing my part, nor can I dance for the whole square. I also assume I am wrong too often, so I get yanked out of position easily. But that said, when I am dancing on a Plus floor, my face does not go slack with non-recognition when the caller calls Box the Gnat.
I can only imagine what it must be like for the callers to have a floor that can do Spin Chain and Exchange the Gears but not Turn Thru. It must be like playing Mine Sweeper without any visual clues as to where the bombs are.
It is really frustrating to fly across the country, pay to stay in an expensive hotel, and in my case, forgo a week of pay, to dance on a floor where half the Plus dancers can’t do a Swing Thru without getting lost.
Grrrr.
Anyway, we did dance three amazing tips; the kind that remind me why I love square dancing. For two we had Pam Clasper in the square. She is such a good dancer that she can keep an entire Plus square moving while making each individual dancer feel successful. (I suspect she can dance C4 while balancing her checkbook.) The third was only amazing from the standpoint of my being successful at it (with some pushing and pointing from Gary and Ron.) We did the No Holds Barred/By Definition Plus tip withotterpop58 and the first tip was actually very cool. There were a couple times I absolutely couldn’t see the track I was on, but at the same time, it was really satisfying realizing how much I actually did know. I am usually firmly in the “wind in their faces” camp in terms of what sort of square dancing I like, but it was nice to know I could be successful at the “puzzle solving” sort as well, even if it did take a lot of help a couple times. We tried dancing another tip in that session, but Ron ended up having to dance for everyone as I valiantly tried not to get yanked in the wrong direction. Gary tried to shadow for me by dancing my part solo where I could see him, but that new square was so often not where it needed to be that it was appreciated more than it helped.
We had to leave on the fourth of July so I could get home to teach the next day. Aside from missing Brian and Kent, I was ready to go. My “smile and be polite” muscles were pretty much worn out and I was just plain tired of not being home.
Boarding the plain from the tarmac feels more like escaping from a third world country than like being a movie star, but it is still way cooler than a gangway lined with strollers.
And then we were home.
We flew into the San Jose Airport. I have always liked that airport since it is the only one that I have flown to by myself, (once, long ago when I worked someplace that trained its employees rather than throwing them away when they needed a fresh skill set.) Security construction has largely destroyed the open 50s style architecture, and not much of the original small airport charm is left, but my favorite thing in the world remains. At the San José airport, Alaska Airlines off-loads their planes via stairs down to the tarmac rather than through gangways. I have wanted to do that since they first aired the episode of the Brady Bunch where they go to Hawaii. We were not greeted by hula girls with leis (was that ever the norm when airplanes arrived in Hawaii, or was that just for the show?), which was probably just as well, but walking down the stairs out of a plane always makes me feel like a movie star. I should probably make Ron go ahead of me next time so I can wave jauntily at him as I emerge from the plane.
The theme of this particular flight had quickly become “never travel on a Saturday.” We ran a little behind on our way to the airport, but still felt like we were in plenty of time to get food at Starbucks after checking in. We were wrong. We took up the entire time from the time we arrived till the time we got to our gate just in time to board just standing in lines. Fortunately, we had packed Cliff bars, and they still serve tea on the plane, but we were really ready for some food when we arrived at our friend Clint’s house in Oakland.
We got lost on the way there (an exit that mapquest said was there was there, but you couldn’t get to it going the direction were going.) We ended up driving through the center of Berkley to go to Oakland. I was really surprised. I had expected Berkley to be a really cool neighborhood full of color, public art, and interesting shops, but it turned out to be dirty and rundown with garbage blowing everywhere. Oakland was upscale by comparison.
When we got to Clint’s he whisked us off to “Lois the Pie Queen” for breakfast, (Mmmm…Cheesy grits) then we were off to San Francisco for haircuts. One of my personal goals for the trip was to get my hair cut at Joe’s Barber shop. That is where
otterpop58 gets his hair cut, so obviously, that is where all the cool kids go to get their hair cut in San Francisco. Unfortunately, I did not realize it was Pink Saturday so Clint was pretty dubious about our chances. He could tell I was pretty disappointed, so he took charge and called to make Ron and I both appointments. We were in luck; one of the guys had two appointments open. We got our hair cut by Danny, who was way the cutest guy there (he was also apparently the only barber working there that day who had never been a porn star or escort…I suspect there is a correlation there…) Now the only problem is how we are going to afford $300 a month each to fly down and get our hair cut there every month. We both agreed they were the best haircuts we have ever had.Ron has already talked about what happened to the car that day, so that was our big adventure for most of the afternoon. I had not realized how long it had been since we had been to San Francisco and figured we would have dinner at The Patio, but apparently it has been closed for a really long time and we were running really late anyway. Western Star was having a Pride Dance that night, so we dropped Clint off in the Noe Valley for a Mark Weigle show, and we scooted up to the top of one of the hills (the twin peaks neighborhood?) for the Pride Square Dance. Before the dance we ate at a little hamburger place across from the church (a Lutheran church who “worships the goddess in all of us”…I could be wrong, but I believe that can be filed in the “only in San Francisco” category). I had a Turkey burger covered in Mushrooms. Mmmmm.
Kris Jensen is a great caller and chooses super fun music to call to. It was fun checking in with people we know from the Bay Area clubs. Sunday we were up early to catch the train in from Oakland for dim sum and then Pride.
Chinatown is one of my favorite spots in San Francisco. I am sure it is different on the East coast, but on the West coast, there are not that many dense urban places that are that old so it is very cool. We had dim sum with friends of Clint’s (both of whom were way over six foot tall which was comically clear when they stood next to the waitresses.) We were the only anglos in the place which people always assure me is the way to tell a really good restaurant in an ethnic neighborhood, and it must be true since the food was really good. I can’t remember the names of anything we ate, but it was all good. There was one sweet, fluffy white bun thing full of something steaming hot and violently orange that was super yummy.
After breakfast we said goodbye to Clint’s friends and toodled down the street to catch the Pride Parade. A quick stop at the drug store for sunscreen and water and we were all set. I had been to the Pride parade in SF once about 12 years ago, but Ron had never been so he was pretty excited. Pride in San Francisco, what could be cooler than that? It turned out the list was quite long. Content wise, it was not that much different than in Seattle, and since Seattle is so much smaller, there is a lot more interaction between people in the parade who know each other and people in the crowd who know each other so there is a lot more energy. We were also surprised that there was very little eye candy. The leather guys were all –really- used looking, the few guys who had their shirts off were doing the shaved and oiled plastic action figure look (I’m not counting the ones who proved the maxum “those who shouldn’t are the first one to take their clothes off”) and the couple of cute cowboys went by all to quickly. The square dancers were fun though and were a great advertisement for square dancing. I wish we could put together that big a contingent.
I was also surprised that there were very few people under the age of 35 in the parade at all when not figuring in the marching band from the alternative high school and the skinny, shaved go-go boys. We quickly discovered that was because they had all skipped the parade to go directly to the festival to start drinking.
Twelve years ago when I was at Pride, the festival was the best part. There were tons of booths with lots of cool stuff to look at. I love wandering around festivals looking at stuff, so I was looking forward to it. This year it was not fun at all. I don’t know if a regulation changed, or the type of permit, or if the event has just grown really huge, or some combination, but it seemed like every other organization who had a booth at the festival was selling alcohol as a fund raiser. Now, the issue of selling alcohol at an event for and by a community that has huge substance abuse problems aside, it made the atmosphere that of a huge bar full of drunk people rather than any sort of festival; a huge bar –really- full of –really- drunk people. You had to shuffle through a crowd that practically filled the Civic Center, all of whom were completely unaware there were other people there. Another difference was that the huge majority of attendees were straight twenty somethings. Apparently Pride is turning into just another drinking holiday like St. Patrick’s day and Mardi Gras. By the time we found the Square Dance booth a couple hours later, I was so full of Pride that if one more drunk person had run into me without even noticing, I was going to punch someone. Ron and Clint were equally full of the spirit of the day, so after saying Hi to people at the booth, we headed back to the Castro.
Starbears was packed and we really wanted to sit down, so we went to a little French coffee house right on Castro (which is already not there anymore…yeesh) and hung out for a couple hours drinking iced tea and chatting. Afterwards, we tried to go to Clint’s favorite Thai restaurant, but it had been turned into a disco for the day so we wandered back up the street to another Thai place and had some of the worst Thai food I have ever had. The green curry was bland, the Phad Thai was pink and boring, and the Tofu Tod was seriously uninspired. I wondered if they had stolen the “Best of San Francisco” sticker in the window. I hope they did. And to top it off, they had TV’s playing a slasher flick positioned all over the restaurant. Yum.
Afterwards, we wandered down Castro to see the sights and quickly discovered there weren’t going to be any. All the bars were full of drunk, straight twenty-somethings, and that was all that was on the street as well. When we had to walk in the street to get past a group of aggressively on- something straight kids smoking pot while they waited outside a club, it was time to call it a night.
We made our goodbyes to Clint the next morning after a last visit to the Pie Queen, and we were off to Caller school. After learning a lesson about rental cars (don’t go with the cheaper brand in favor of the one you can drop off at the hotel since you will eat the savings in taxi fare if there is no shuttle) we were finally checked in and ready for the week of square dancing.
Most important though, was getting ready for
bjarvis and Kent to arrive. Getting to see them again was the best part of convention. I would happily meet them for breakfast –every- morning if it was possible. It is a little weird how happy that made me.I’ve talked about caller school elsewhere, suffice to say it was fun and exciting while making my brain hurt at the same time. There were several people in my beginners class that I think will actually get a lot of calling time in someday, but
fuzzygruf is the one to watch. I suspect he will be one of the traveling callers someday if he wants to be.Between caller school and convention, we (
rlegters, bjarvis, Kent, and I, with Eric from Boston in tow) rented a car and ran around site seeing. The Winchester Mystery Mansion was amazing. They spend a lot of time playing up the more eccentric parts of Sarah Winchester’s life, but a lot of the “mysteries” can be explained by her health (for example, the stair way to nowhere wasn’t built that way, it was closed off when they built a new one with tiny treads that she could actually walk up with arthritis) or by her being an amateur architect. She was an amazingly successful business women/architect/artist in a time when women didn’t do those things, and the house is full of every high-tech gadget you can imagine from the turn of the century. I think people who don’t know or aren’t aware of the influence of spiritualists in Victorian society focus on some of her more eccentric behavior, but she was following the time honored reclusive widow track available to women of the time and her belief in that particular brand of spirituality wasn’t quantitatively much different than Shirley McLean’s. Grieving rich people make choices the rest of us can’t afford to no matter the century. I found the marketing of her eccentricity way creepier.Later on that afternoon, we discovered that Brian purrs when you give him a hot fudge sundae.
That evening we went to dinner in Mountain View, which was the first place I have been in the Bay area that I could imagine living. All in all it was a really fun day. Next day, the convention began.
The convention was really well done. The committee had a hard act to follow after the amazing convention held at the Arizona Biltmore, but they did a good job. I loved all the found-object robots and the Drive-in marquee sign outside the banquet tent.
I did get frustrated with what I consider the IAGSDC’s dirty little secret. I used to wonder why so many people come to a square dance convention, and then spend the whole time laying by the pool and socializing. Now I don’t. The floor level at convention is so low it is not fun to dance at all. If it weren’t for caller school and getting to see Brian and Kent and assorted other people from around the country, I think we would spend our money going to fly-ins instead.
I like teaching people and I enjoy angeling. New dancers that are just a little tentative or still get turned around on some calls, are not a problem and are often a lot of fun. Breaking down is just part of square dancing, it’s not a big deal. However, I draw the line at breaking down every sequence, and I especially draw the line at breaking down every sequence on Mainstream calls during Plus tips.
I realize that I am only an okay dancer. I depend too much on how executing the calls feels and on the patterns that are created by the other dancers and I have trouble calling up and executing the definitions in real time. When people start wandering around on a multi-part call, I’m lost; I can’t just keep doing my part, nor can I dance for the whole square. I also assume I am wrong too often, so I get yanked out of position easily. But that said, when I am dancing on a Plus floor, my face does not go slack with non-recognition when the caller calls Box the Gnat.
I can only imagine what it must be like for the callers to have a floor that can do Spin Chain and Exchange the Gears but not Turn Thru. It must be like playing Mine Sweeper without any visual clues as to where the bombs are.
It is really frustrating to fly across the country, pay to stay in an expensive hotel, and in my case, forgo a week of pay, to dance on a floor where half the Plus dancers can’t do a Swing Thru without getting lost.
Grrrr.
Anyway, we did dance three amazing tips; the kind that remind me why I love square dancing. For two we had Pam Clasper in the square. She is such a good dancer that she can keep an entire Plus square moving while making each individual dancer feel successful. (I suspect she can dance C4 while balancing her checkbook.) The third was only amazing from the standpoint of my being successful at it (with some pushing and pointing from Gary and Ron.) We did the No Holds Barred/By Definition Plus tip with
otterpop58 and the first tip was actually very cool. There were a couple times I absolutely couldn’t see the track I was on, but at the same time, it was really satisfying realizing how much I actually did know. I am usually firmly in the “wind in their faces” camp in terms of what sort of square dancing I like, but it was nice to know I could be successful at the “puzzle solving” sort as well, even if it did take a lot of help a couple times. We tried dancing another tip in that session, but Ron ended up having to dance for everyone as I valiantly tried not to get yanked in the wrong direction. Gary tried to shadow for me by dancing my part solo where I could see him, but that new square was so often not where it needed to be that it was appreciated more than it helped.We had to leave on the fourth of July so I could get home to teach the next day. Aside from missing Brian and Kent, I was ready to go. My “smile and be polite” muscles were pretty much worn out and I was just plain tired of not being home.
Boarding the plain from the tarmac feels more like escaping from a third world country than like being a movie star, but it is still way cooler than a gangway lined with strollers.
And then we were home.
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Especially since we boarded by the back stairway on an MD-88(?) which drops down out of the tail, and is not quite as wide as my shoulders.
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When I lived down in the Bay Area, there was an amazing wax museum in San Francisco... but, I've heard it's gone now. At least the Winchester Mystery Mansion is still around!
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Barbecued pork bun? Love those!
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Yeah, sundaes, among other things. You and Ron had me purring a lot that week. :-)
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Part of this may be due to an age-shift in gay square dancing. A lot of the experienced dancers have moved up to up A&C, which means the MS and Plus halls have comparatively new/inexperienced dancers, which kind of shafts the experienced MS/Plus dancers who want to have a good time.
Part of this may also be due to the trendy practice of "rushing" through levels to stay current with friends; I'm a big believer in taking one's time ascending dance levels.
Another factor is that lots of people graduate just before convention, so their floor level is comparatively weak. Since most fly-ins usually offer only full-level dancing, fly-in attendees usually have had several months of dancing at their "new" level, and are steadier and more experienced than new graduates on the floor at Convention.
In general, the few truly "magical" squares (like your tip with Pam) make up for the dismal squares. It does tend to even out after a while.
If you like "wind in your face" dancing ... try to attend something where Ben Rubright is calling. You'll be delighted.
I'm afraid the magic of the Castro is largely gone for me. Many of the unique locally run stores and businesses that used to line the streets, are gone now. Another personal factor is that so many people I knew in the Castro have died, that it's kinda just become another neighborhood to me. (One with a higher than usual gay content.)